The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,86

for a while. He knew Aislinn had also been his grandfather’s teacher, so she had been a wizard. Does that mean she could still be alive somewhere? His grandfather had said she was older by some forty years, but then again, Arrogan hadn’t seemed as though he was close to dying of natural causes.

Whatever the answers were, it was unlikely he would ever know the full story. And I’ve got more important things to worry about anyway, he decided. Barrowden was full of Darrowan soldiers, half his family was now dead, and he had to figure out how to keep his mother and Sammy safe.

And he was still two weeks away from turning seventeen. It didn’t seem right to have so much weight on his shoulders. The world didn’t seem to care, though. Little Dougie had only been ten and he’d been beaten to death trying to defend his family. “And Aunt Doreen,” he whispered to himself, seeing her dying moments all over again. He could still hear the sound of the soldier’s fist beating her head into the ground.

Without realizing how he had gotten there, he found himself crouched down on the floor, swept away by tears of grief and rage. His mother and Sammy had encircled him with their arms. This time it was Sammy who comforted him, for her own eyes were dry.

“You should sleep in the bed with us,” said his mother. “None of us should be alone tonight.”

“But…”

“I don’t care if you’re sixteen or thirty,” said Erisa. “Besides, you’re not the only one that needs comfort.”

Will swallowed, unable to speak because of the lump in his throat, then he nodded.

That night his mother occupied the center of the bed, with Will on one side and Sammy on the other. Even with the chill of winter setting in, the presence of three bodies made them almost uncomfortably warm, and although they slept with but a light blanket over them, Will could tell his mother was sweating. But she didn’t complain, and every time he tried to move farther away her arm tightened around his head, pulling him closer.

Chapter 28

“William Cartwright.”

His eyes opened at the sound of his name. It had been a woman’s voice, but not that of his mother or Sammy. Confused, Will lifted his head and looked around the dark room. With no candle or lamp lit, it was pitch black. He couldn’t have seen his own hand in front of his face. Had he imagined the voice?

“William Cartwright, I call thee.”

He heard it clearly then, as though the speaker’s mouth was next to his ear, and he recognized the voice. She had been the subject of a number of embarrassing and often erotic dreams since their previous meeting. Tailtiu.

Will sat up in the bed, straining his eyes. Was she in the room? Maybe he had dreamed it.

“Will, are you all right?” asked his mother, half-asleep.

“I have to pee. Go back to sleep,” he told her before rising and searching the floor for his boots.

“William Cartwright—thrice named and thrice called. I seek your counsel.”

Will froze, waiting to see if the sound of Tailtiu’s voice would wake his mother. After a few seconds he relaxed, for she gave no sign of having heard anything. Finding his boots at last, he gathered them up and stumbled out of the room. Once he was in the front room, he realized he knew where he needed to go. Within his mind, he could feel the direction of her pull. He was familiar enough with the surrounding area to know the spot she was calling from.

He hadn’t realized there was a congruency there, between his world and hers, but that was to be expected, for the weak places between worlds were hard to notice, even with his relatively newfound sight.

Opening the outer door, he went out into the night, grateful for the full moon overhead. It was only then that he paused. Should I answer her call? Since his first disastrous meeting with Tailtiu, he had memorized the rules. He wasn’t required to answer, and given all the things his grandfather had told him it would probably be wiser not to do so. The fae were dangerous beyond belief, and he had very little experience dealing with them.

And if something went wrong, his grandfather wouldn’t be there to bail him out this time. Highlighting that point was the grey bundle on the porch, Arrogan’s body, wrapped and waiting for burial.

Will squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again